


Hot Honey

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prompt: "My room mate just told me to stop growing my beard because if I get any more handsome, he's gonna have to fuck me but what he doesn't know is that I want that."





	1. Chapter 1

In retrospect, Andrew should have caught on a lot sooner the first time he sees Steven walk in, make eye contact with him, and promptly freeze. He’d mistaken the abrupt strain detected in Steven’s voice for the beginnings of a cold when the other had made a sound he could only compare to a strangled chicken and gestured at his face.   
  
“Getting a little uh…” He’d raised a brow, watching his companion struggle for words. “Scruffy there.” 

“Didn’t have time to shave. Call time’s early today.” Andrew raised a hand to absentmindedly rub at the stubble growing along his jawline, missing the way Steven’s gaze had followed the motion of his fingers. “We’ll head out once you’re ready.”

And when he catches Steven staring at him a little too long, a little too often, on that day of filming, he should have ruminated on that. Unfortunately, he hadn’t.

That would continue until months later when Adam decides to pull him aside. Though he’s soft-spoken, the man has never been inclined to mince words. “The both of you have been dancing around each other for the longest time and it’s getting painful to watch.” Adam tilts his head to gesture in Steven’s direction and Andrew follows his gaze, watching him engage in an animated conversation with one of their audio producers.

A quiet cough is heard and he draws his line of sight away, a little reluctantly.   
“Go ask him out.” Adam says and Andrew forgets to breathe. 

“Adam, you’re mistaken. We’re not-” He inhales a steadying breath. “It’s not like that.” The latter of his explanations sounded weak even to Andrew’s own ears. And for one terrifyingly tense moment, he thinks Adam would continue to push the subject. Except that he doesn’t. Instead, he’s given a disappointed Adam ™ look followed by a sigh.

“Just…think about it.”   
There’s something in Adam’s gaze that uncomfortably resembles pity when he clasps a hand over his bicep and squeezes briefly before busying himself with other matters. After a few moments of lingering, Andrew releases his breath and turns, just in time to make brief eye contact with Steven from a fair distance away before Steven breaks it, as if embarrassed about being caught looking.

The problem with Adam is that he’s a little _too_  good with words at times because Andrew finds it almost impossible to  _not_  think about the idea of dating Steven after their whole conversation happened. Regardless of how much effort he places into actively not wondering about Steven, he still wakes thinking about slightly chapped lips and quiet gasps. It would have been a tolerable problem, except that the idea makes his whole chest _ache_ with something eerily close to need.

He gets away with it until he finds himself lingering when he brushes fingers against Steven’s cheek to help remove a stray eyelash that’d fallen and began to sting. For a split second, Andrew could have sworn it wasn’t just his imagination. He could have sworn he felt Steven lean into his touch and relax. That’s pretty much the moment Andrew knew: He’s royally screwed.

Okay. So he might not have been as exclusively interested in ladies as he thought he was. So he  _might_ kind of sort of been harboring somewhat of a growing crush on his co-host. The only question that he’s left with is what the hell he’s going to do with this newfound revelation.

Avoid Steven? Out of the question. That guy’s so in tune with everything, there’s little chance that Andrew keeping a respectable distance wouldn’t be noticed. If anything, Steven might take it as a sign that he messed up somehow and blame himself for it. Besides, there’s the possibility that a tiny part of Steven may be interested in Andrew too. Ask him out? Risky move. Andrew might jeopardise potentially everything just by going out on a limb to do so. And what if Steven doesn’t return his affections? That would just make everything even more soul crushing than it already is. But if even Adam’s encouraging him to ask Steven out…then the possibility of Steven returning his feelings isn’t simply a figment of his own hopeful imagination. Right?

Then Steven moves in with him and he gets another chance to figure it out.

In a turn of events that some would commonly refer to as a cosmic joke pulled on Andrew from the universe (wow who did he offend), the plumbing and electrical situation of Steven’s apartment took a really sharp turn to Fucksville City: Population 1 just weeks after they finished filming another Worth It season. They were in the middle of discussing Steven’s current predicament when Adam makes eye contact with him and quietly went “Andrew lives by himself, I think.”

This apparently sets off a reaction- namely Steven latching onto his bicep and wheedling, attempting to bribe him into temporarily sharing space to him. Exasperated with the pleading, Andrew pretended to groan. Only his attempts at feigning exasperation seemed to evoke a reaction he hadn’t been expecting because there’s a falter in Steven’s bargaining and he rests his hand down from scrubbing his face just in time to see that his eyes were keenly affixed to him in a way that has Andrew feeling inexplicably warm under his collar.

_Huh._

It takes Steven a few seconds later to start persuading him again. The knowing, slightly smug expression on Adam’s face when he agrees doesn’t serve to improve the situation.

Surprisingly enough, becoming room mates with one Steven Lim wasn’t as taxing as Andrew had anticipated it to be. Steven does fairly well in respecting the ‘house rules’ he’d implemented once he moves in. He cleans up after himself and even helps feed Andrew’s cat whenever he’s running late. Steven also seems to have a pretty good gauge on when Andrew’s all out of energy to socialise and doesn’t mind leaving him alone to recharge from time to time. Which is something he’s eternally grateful for.

In fact, Andrew would even venture to say that rooming with Steven is…well… _Nice_. But it’s equally as maddening as well because he finds himself unable to ask the one question that had been steadily growing into a burning thought at the back of his mind over the course of a few weeks. There just…wasn’t ever a good time to ask.

Turns out he really didn’t have to ask since he gets an answer (sorta) a few days later after a drunken night of hanging out with mutual friends. Between their combined efforts, they manage to stumble back to the safety of their shared room and Steven makes a beeline for his end of the bed, flopping down on it with a sigh of relief. Andrew manages to retrieve two bottles of water, chugging about a quarter of one down and tosses the other at Steven. Even when tipsy, his aim isn’t half bad because he hears a muffled protest of pain when the bottle connects with a thud.

“Andreeew you’re killing me here.” 

The complaint draws an amused snort out from him.   
“Don’t be dramatic, it’s just a bottle.”   
  
“That’s not what I meant.”   
  
“Oh?” Emboldened by both the hazy alcohol-induced fog settling over his brain and maybe just tried to the point of no longer giving a fuck, Andrew makes his way to their shared bed and slides under the covers, turning so that he could face Steven. He could feel the tiny puffs of air each time Steven exhales from their proximity to each other. If Andrew wanted, he could probably also count his lashes. “What do you mean then?”

His questioning earns him a groan and Steven reaches out to tap an index finger right against his jawline.   
  
“This. I meant this.” There’s a tone of petulance in his mumbling and Andrew wants to kiss it away.Except that the feeling of Steven’s fingers brushing against his cheek, the side of his neck and jaw is a little distracting.   
  
“What? My beard offends your sensibilities?” That tears a laugh out of Andrew, which earns him a light thump on his arm.

“You’re doing it on purpose.” Steven accuses, scrunching his nose at him. Ugh adorable. “You’re doing it because it makes you look even more handsome than you already are. It’s _illegal_!”   
  
“You _like_  the scruff.” He might be tipsy but things make so much sense now. The intensity of Steven’s staring, the _frequency_ of him doing so and how he quite often forgets his train of thought whenever Andrew makes eye contact. Andrew’s aware that he’s grinning because Steven’s giving him another huff but he’s unrepentant about doing so.

“Hey it’s not my fault you look good with it.” Steven retorts, the touch of his finger burns when he pokes Andrew in the chest. “Andreeew, stop growing your beard. If you get anymore handsome, I’m gonna be thinking about fucking you all the time. It’s ridiculous how attractive you look with the beard and showing off while you cook.” 

Now THAT. That’s certainly a way for Andrew to sober up real quick, silently and abruptly floored by the new turn of events. Welp, now he’s going to be thinking about it even more…goddamn it. Unsure of how to even respond, given their current circumstances, he falls back on the reliable.  
  
“Didn’t know you’re into the whole lumberjack aesthetic.” 

Predictably, that elicits a series of undignified laughter from Steven. The conversation is effectively derailed when he reaches out to try and poke Andrew again, which rapidly becomes a mutual poking competition until they’re both too tired to continue. As Andrew relaxes and allows sleep to overtake him, he makes a decision.

Tomorrow. He’ll ask tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Andrew hatches a plan once he wakes and places it into action before he could allow himself to lose his nerve. For the rest of the day, he doesn’t bring up the events that transpired the night before. And if he lets his hands linger just a little bit longer on Steven’s arm, no one can really make any notable mention of it. A part of Andrew feels guilty for his behaviour being the part of the reason Steven grows increasingly antsy with each passing moment. He’d never been one to beat around the bush, always willing to confront the problem in as straightforward of a way as possible. But Andrew had a plan. And in order for his plan to work, it would require a great deal of careful calculation plus no interruptions.

So Andrew takes half a day off, dipping out as furtively as possible, only daring to breathe again when he’s made it outside.

By the time Steven returns back to their shared apartment with apologies already on the tip of his tongue, he finds Andrew in the kitchen. Even without looking at him, Andrew can feel the exact moment Steven rounds the corner and processes the current state of events which, coincidentally, just so happens to be Andrew with a simple clean apron and his sleeves rolled all the way up. He waits a few heartbeats longer before he lifts his attention away from stirring the pasta sauce to make direct eye contact.

“Welcome home, Steven.” 

Welcome home??? That’s not what he’d planned to say but it came out that way anyways and he’ll be damned if he lets himself freeze up. He’s a little flattered that despite his awkward blunder, the other’s still gawking openly at him.   
“Steven.” Andrew allows amusement to colour his words when he repeats his name. “Come here for a sec.”

He’s careful not to drip excess sauce everywhere when he holds out the ladle towards Steven, who startles out of his reverie and obligingly approaches. “Try this and tell me what you think.” Though Andrew does his best to keep his tone even, as if he’s unaware of what he’s doing, they both know it’s quite the contrary. The very notion has heat stirring somewhere deep, anticipation lighting his nerves, thrumming. Andrew’s skirting the line here and while he’s not a sadist, a part of him has to admit he likes watching Steven squirm.

“It’s uh. It’s good!” It’s almost impossible not to smile when Steven’s voice cracks in the middle of speaking.  

“Okay. In that case, dinner will be ready soon…Oh-” He has enough presence of mind to set the ladle down safely before he takes a step closer to Steven and raises a hand. “You have sauce on your face.” He doesn’t.

Andrew presses the pad of his thumb against the corner of Steven’s lips, tracing the dips and curves repeatedly as he presses closer so that Steven would have to lean against the kitchen counter for support. This close, he’s able to see Steven swallowing hard and pink staining his cheeks. Andrew is sure that his own heart is beating as quickly as his companion’s at this point.

Shifting back slightly, he keeps his gaze affixed on Steven when he raised the same thumb against his own lips and makes a show of lapping sauce away. Both of them knew there weren’t any. Andrew simply did it because he wanted to. And the man had been thinking about how to up the ante when Steven finally breaks his own composure by groaning and covering his face with both his hands.

“You’re doing this to get back at me for last night, aren’t you?” When he finally lifts his hands away from his face, his complexion has taken on a blotchy red. He’s huffing in exasperation when he mumbles. “You shouldn’t tease me that much, Andrew. I was…serious about the whole thing I said. You have  _no_  idea how hard it is not to do something about this right now.” The latter of his surprisingly honest statement is accompanied with Steven awkwardly gesturing to all of Andrew.  

"Oh I disagree.” Instead of taking a step back, Andrew takes another step closer, effectively reducing what limited space there had been between the both of them. “I know  _exactly_  what I’m doing and I think you do too.” Eyes, half lidded with intent and unabashed want continues to appraise Steven.

“So why don’t you do something about it?” 

To his credit, Steven doesn’t need any more encouragement than that because he’s surging forward, fingers hooked onto the fabric of his shirt so that he could tug him close and press their lips together. And Andrew’s sighing into the kiss because finally. _Finally_.

They kiss until the need to breathe burns their lungs, pausing to intake air before they go back in for more. It takes a while for them to adjust to each other- the height difference, occasional bumping of teeth and noses, how to angle their head so that their lips could meld together better. It’s not perfect but it’s  _real_. And Andrew would rather take real than everything else.

He drinks in the familiar scent of Steven, heady and intoxicating. Feels the hitching of his breathing when he runs his palms up and wraps his arms around his shoulders in an embrace, slotting their bodies closer. Teeth grazes his bottom lip, tugging gently and he parts them readily at Steven’s silent request, welcoming his need to explore. Andrew loses track of how long they’d been kissing before they break for air again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This mainly centers around bottom!Andrew. The last update will focus on top!Andrew. I kept them separate so that people who have clear preferences can pick what they want to read and still have a proper conclusion to the whole story line without having to read all of the chapters. c:

Steven’s hands rested warm against his hips and Andrew has to suppress a groan when he squeezes experimentally.   
  
“Andrew.” He takes pride in being the reason why Steven’s voice is so hoarse when he calls for him. “I want. I  _want_ -” 

What he’d been planning to say is abruptly cut off when Andrew nips at the juncture right below his ear, soothing the scrape of his teeth by closing his lips around the area and suckling lightly. He presses a trail of hot kisses against the curve of Steven’s neck, leaving forming faint pink marks as his companion’s fingers scrabbled for the makeshift knot of his apron.   
  
“What?” The huskiness in Andrew’s tone is hard to miss when he leans back against the kitchen island and regards Steven with a deliberate tilt of his head. “What do you want?” He lets Steven pull off his apron, lets it fall to the floor in favour of having him run his hands up his torso.   
  
“You. I want  _you_.” There is no hesitation in Steven’s voice when he answers. 

“Then  _have_  me.” Andrew releases a shuddering gasp when fingers delved under his shirt to press nails against his back, dragging down firmly enough that he feels each slip slide with greater intimacy. He doesn’t have time to think because Steven’s kissing him again, tugging his belt loop so that they’re both stumbling in the vague direction of where his bedroom is.  

At some point in between places, Andrew finds himself divested of his shirt, back pressed up against the hallway wall with enough intent that it temporarily deprives him of air and rattles the few picture frames he has hanging. Judging by the rate they’re going, Andrew isn’t entirely sure that they’d make it to his bed. Surprisingly, he doesn’t really mind. 

Though Steven appears to have different ideas because he’s stooping. Warm hands settled against the backs of Andrew’s thighs, squeezing indulgently before Andrew finds himself lifted off the ground in an impressive show of strength. Jesus christ, the fact that Steven is deceptively stronger than he looks shouldn’t be this hot. Except for the fact that it really really is  _that_  hot. A few staggering steps later, Andrew’s safely deposited in the middle of his bed, back arched in a bid to grind against Steven, chasing relief. He doesn’t need further prompting to start shucking off his clothing, hissing as cold air meets overheated skin. 

Steven takes delight in mapping out the planes of his body. Though inexperienced, it’s become apparent how much of a quick learner he could be because Andrew’s  _losing his goddamn mind_ at the way he seeks out his pleasure points and latches on with both teeth and lips. A groan slips from Andrew when Steven slides his palms down his thighs to part them and practically  _drag_  him closer. 

_“Fffuck. Steve-Steven-!”_

Warm heat envelopes Andrew’s dick when Steven parts his lips and laved his tongue along the underside, drawing delight from being able to coax out vocal responses from him. His breath catches in his throat and Andrew releases another involuntary groan, digging his fingers in to grab fistfuls of his own sheets just to prevent his hips from jerking up for more. 

And Steven- that unbelievable bastard- splays his hands against him, tracing down the arch of his back to  _hold his hips down_. He even went as far as to make sure that Andrew was looking at him before he closes his mouth around the tip of his dick and suckled, drawing a breathy choked gasp from him.  _Jesus christ_. He’s a  _demon_.

It’s all Andrew could do to prevent himself from thrusting his hips up back in response when Steven gradually works down his shaft. What he lacked in expertise was more than made up for in enthusiasm and a hint of teeth- not enough to hurt but just enough to keep Andrew’s attention from drifting. If he were any more self aware, he’d find it in himself to be a little bit embarrassed with how he’s writhing under Steven’s touch. Instead, he digs fingers against the back of Steven’s head and tugs at his hair, earning himself a groan he feels right down to the tips of his toes. 

Steven’s lips were pink by the time he has mercy on Andrew’s quickly waning self control and releases him with one last bob of his head. He’s breathing heavy, hair slightly mussed and his touch is scalding when he skates them indulgently up Andrew’s thighs. And Andrew suspects that he himself doesn’t look any better off, if the needy expression on Steven’s face was anything to go by.  

 _"Teach me.”_  There’s a plea in his tone when Steven finds his voice again, it’s hoarseness eliciting shudders from Andrew. He’s so earnest in his sincerity that it makes him  _ache_. Torn between kissing him silly and hiding behind his hands.  _“I wanna make you feel good. Please.”_ Fuck.

“ _Okay_.” It takes Andrew three tries before he succeeds in locating the spare bottle of lube he keeps stashed by the bedside drawers, fingers fumbling for it. “Just- Give me a minute.” 

And he does. Except that Steven’s concept of giving Andrew a minute of respite so he doesn’t come too quickly like some overly eager teenager means unabashedly kneading his ass while he shifts even closer, forearms propped against each of Andrew’s sides so that he was effectively caging him in. By the time Andrew finally manages to sufficiently prepare and work a lube coated finger into himself, he’s certain that Steven Lim would be the death of him one day. 

This close, surrounded by the familiar scent of Steven’s shampoo mingled with sweat and body heat, being the sole object of scrutiny under the full weight of his gaze- it’s an indescribable thrill, setting his nerve endings alight in a way that makes him feel like he’s coming apart and formed together at the same time. Andrew’s two fingers in, working himself open when he feels a hand on his wrist, stilling him. 

Against better judgement, he makes a noise of complaint and opens his eyes again- when had he closed them? The sight that greets him is one that has him bearing down on his fingers with another gasp- Steven with his pupils blown, cheeks a ruddy red, looking like he wants nothing more than to devour him. Now that he has his attention again, Steven tugs lightly at his wrist.   
“I want- can I?”

His request takes a while to process but once it does register in Andrew’s pleasure-clouded mind, he nods, unable to trust his own voice at the moment. Sliding his own fingers out, Andrew takes hold of Steven’s hand and guides it closer. “Go slow.” He succeeds in rasping out, shifting his grip so that he’s securing Steven’s index finger only. 

His breathing stutters when he lies back down properly and it hitches when Steven obeys, slowly but surely gliding his finger in past the ring of muscle, sliding in at a torturous pace until his knuckle brushes against Andrew. “Oh wow. You’re-” A second finger meets the first, earning him another noise that sounds way too close to a whine. “Holy shit. Can I-?”

Another nod from Andrew. While Andrew’s own fingers were thicker compared to his companion’s, Steven’s were longer and once he’d given him permission to move, he doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace again, mimicking the glide and stretch he’d observed. Until all Andrew could do was to grip at the sheets, rocking his hips back in response to meet his fingers, legs trembling. Under his encouragement, Steven eventually gains enough confidence to add a third, crooking them just the tiniest bit and Andrew’s arching his back with a sharp inhale. 

“There-” He bucks into his touch with impatience when Steven’s ministrations stilled. “Steven, if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I’m-” And Steven’s scrambling, sliding his fingers out despite his protests. Thankfully, Andrew isn’t left with much time to react though because Steven is guiding the head of his own dick into him and Andrew could sob because finally.  _Finally_. 

Even with what felt like an eternity of preparation, Andrew still needs time to get accustomed to the stretch as Steven gradually slides his way in to the hilt inch by inch. When he runs his palms down the length of Steven’s back, he could feel trembling, as if it’s taking everything in Steven’s control not to start moving and the thought has Andrew instinctively tightening around him with a brilliant burst of need, eliciting a moan from his companion. 

He sought out Steven’s lips, kissing him hard with a fervor that only keeps building when he’s kissed back. Fingers curling around short locks at the back of Steven’s neck, Andrew licks his way into his pliant mouth, pressing close with tongue and teeth, hoping to convey the depths of all he feels into the action itself. He kisses Steven with everything he has and takes satisfaction in drawing out broken throaty sounds of appreciation from the other. 

“Move.” Andrew manages to breathe out the words, already grinding, attempting to feel more. “Move, now.” 

That turns out to be the last of what he manages to convey because Steven moves and any semblance of coherence flies straight out the goddamn window. He’s taken to gripping Andrew by the hips again, guiding him back down onto his cock with each sharp thrust in, setting a steady rhythm that makes Andrew’s toes curl. Andrew’s dimly aware that Steven’s running his mouth again, could catch jumbled phrases and remarks about how Andrew feels “so good so good-” and part of Andrew wants to return the sentiment but he finds himself unable to do so because Steven’s properly and earnestly rutting up into him now.

And he feels him  _everywhere_. Around him. On him. _In_ him. He’s enveloped in so much Steven, his chest feels full to the brim. 

Then Steven, that sneaky scoundrel, angles the shift of his hips to thrust in even deeper and Andrew’s vision briefly whites out in pure unadulterated pleasure. He scrabbles for sturdy purchase, bracing himself against the line of Steven’s shoulders even as a choked groan escapes him and he’s unable to stop himself from rocking back into his thrusts, caught up with chasing that blinding brilliant sensation again. And Steven delivers. Oh how he delivers. He takes Andrew’s reactions as an invitation to try it again, each slip slide intimately felt as he rubs up against him repeatedly until Andrew’s back is bent and he’s unable to focus on anything except the build up of ecstasy coiling deep within him. 

Until Andrew can produce nothing except a litany of breathless moans, writhing under him, seeking out more more more. Until he’s unable to focus on anything else except Steven and he’s coming with his name adorned on his lips like a prayer. Until he accepts that maybe, just maybe, he’d been in love with Steven Lim from the very beginning.  
  
He rides through the waves of euphoria with Steven until they were both shaking from too much stimulation and he feels warmth on the insides of his thighs when Steven comes, biting down hard against the juncture where his shoulder meets his neck. And he lies with him, panting, flushed faced and boneless from exertion but content. Andrew closes his eyes briefly and inhales the scent of musk and sex in the room, allowing the reality of his actions to settle beneath his skin in a strange form of peace.

Tell him. He has to let him know.  
But much like always, Steven throws him off kilter and beats him to the punch.   
  
“I love you.” The words were sighed in a manner Andrew could describe as reverent when Steven rolls off so that he could lie on his side, a thumb gliding across his jaw. “Not just for your scruffy good looks, don’t worry. But yeah, I love you.”

It’s amazing how often Steven could so easily dispel the weight of his own thoughts by making Andrew laugh. But he does, and Andrew is eternally grateful for that even as he tries in vain to fix him with a reproachful look.  
  
“I know.” He gives up, allowing a smile to rest against the edges of his lips. Andrew leans in to offer him a kiss. Fleeting. Chaste compared to what they just were up to. But no less important in the message it held. 

“I love you too.”

“Sweet!”

_“Steven.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 mainly centers around top!Andrew. Chapter 3 focuses on bottom!Andrew.

He take advantage of the momentary lull in action to properly look at Steven. Takes in the way he presses in to Andrew’s touch, pink adorning his cheeks, lips tinged red and Andrew can feel his own pulse quickening beneath his skin because Steven’s looking _back_. There’s something simultaneously thrilling and overwhelming in the way Steven could make him feel when he’s the center of his attention. It draws him in readily, welcoming and unflinching in their attentiveness. Like nothing else matters in that very space in time except Andrew. 

Without taking his eyes off Steven, Andrew reaches out to turn off the stove, the click of it’s flames extinguishing loud in the silence that lingered between them. 

He takes a step forward, then two, crowding into Steven’s space until he has his back pressed up against the edge of the table. Since as long as he’d met him, Andrew has never felt like he was able to quite catch up with Steven. His companion moved at his own pace, always flitting here and there however he fancied. But now? Now Andrew finally has him where he wants him to be.  _Here_. With him. And the very knowledge of it all couldn’t be more satisfying.   
  
Fingers tugged eagerly at the corners of his shirt, keen to press their bodies flush against each other. Steven dips down to meet him in the middle, this time with a little less fumbling and Andrew doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing him. It’s easy to lose himself to this- the slightly chapped feeling of Steven’s lips against his own, the soft sighs that escape him when Andrew curls his fingers against the nape of his neck and kneads...he wants to engrave that into his memory. 

“Just so you know.” His own voice rumbles at the back of his throat when he whispers them against Steven’s ear, shifting to press tender kisses down the curve of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about you too.” He’s rewarded with an audible hitch in breathing and fingers digging in against his shoulders when he sinks teeth against the juncture right below Steven’s ear and leaves an imprint of them, laving over the spot and closing his lips over the mark he’d made to soothe the sting. 

“Yeah?” He feels the light bobbing of Steven’s throat when he swallows. To his credit, he only falters once as Andrew began leaving a trail of playful nips against the column of his throat. “What kind of things?” He shudders when Andrew rucks up his shirt to skim his palms up his sides, gamely raising his hands so that the article of clothing could be removed and promptly tossed aside. 

“All sorts.” Andrew shoves him backwards. Caught by surprise, Steven emits a loud curse, instinctively reaching for something as he topples backwards, only to find himself steadied again by a laughing Andrew and lowered onto the surface of the table carefully. “Jerk.” 

Despite the admonishment, there is a crinkle in his eyes that betrayed his amusement when Steven retaliates by hooking his legs around Andrew’s torso and drags forward so that he’d have to sprawl out with his arms braced against Steven’s sides for support. 

“Sorry.” He’s still grinning when he dips his head to press a placating kiss upon Steven’s chest, soon replaced with a hint of teeth and whatever remnants of feigned petulance from his companion’s part fades into shudders. Honestly, Andrew himself has never been particularly familiar with the appeal of stubble scratches against tender skin. But if him growing his beard out meant evoking such an array of reactions from Steven, then he’s going to be looking into making certain changes to his routines from now on. 

"I think about you like this.” Andrew’s words were continued in the form of quiet throaty whispers against Steven’s skin, almost reverent as he glides his hands all over, shamelessly exploring the dips and divots that make up Steven as if he means to memorise him through touch alone. “I think about how it’d be like to have you against me. On top of me. Under me.” 

Steven’s positively squirming by the time he maps a trail down and bites at the jut of his hips, peeking out above the waistline of his pants. Andrew runs his hands indulgently down his thighs to his ass. A cheeky squeeze has Steven gasping, jerking in a reflexive instinct to chase sensation, rubbing up against Andrew.  
   
“I think about what it’d be like to be _inside_  you.” 

Andrew tugs at the clasp of his belt, eyes half lidded with intent as he undoes it and slides it free, allowing the material to slip from his fingers to the floor. “There’s so much I  _want_  to do to you, Steven.” 

His admission earns him a drawn out groan of his name and Andrew takes a moment to soak in satisfaction when he reaches out to palm Steven through his pants and he’s unable to refrain from bucking up into his touch. “Andreew, you’re killing me, man. Just-” Steven’s tone carries a touch of impatience when he once again attempts to grind against his touch. “Do it. Come on.”  
  
“Are you sure?”   
Kind of hypocritical for Andrew to be the one asking it now, especially considering the fact that this all started because he’d been the one to goad Steven into action. But it still had to be asked. The last thing Andrew wants is for Steven to come to regret this. He doesn’t think that he himself could’ve handled knowing if it was. “This isn’t....some spur of the moment thing.” 

“I know what I want, Andrew.” Warm hands rested against both sides of his face and Andrew’s head is lifted so that he would make eye contact with Steven. Instead of hesitation, there’s only gentle assurance in his companion’s gaze when he replied. “And I want  _this_. With _you_.”

His verbal confirmation has something in Andrew trembling. Too tender. Too trusting. Too real. “Okay.” He breathes out, leaning close to tug Steven into yet another heated kiss. _“Okay.”_  

Between the both of them, they manage to divest each other out of the rest of their clothes and Andrew could only huff fondly when Steven mimics his previous actions of flinging the rest of their garments away, somehow succeeding in knocking several containers off their storage spots. He has the decency to look half sheepish about it before he’s making grabby hands at Andrew again, gaze raking over his figure with an appraising intensity that has heat rushing to Andrew’s cheeks. Most of his cheekiness fades in favour of throwing his head back to release an open mouthed groan when Andrew retaliates by stroking up the length of his dick.

After a bout of blindly rummaging through the drawers, Andrew decides the unopened container of coconut oil is going to have to suffice. It’s cool to the touch when he collects a generous amount to slick up both of their cocks, prompting an involuntary hiss, but it’s just slippery enough to melt under the warmth of Andrew’s hand, allowing him to work up a steady rhythm of jacking the both of them off in unison. 

Then once again, Steven continues to surprise him in the best of ways because he’s sitting up and lightly batting at his hand. “Let me- let me.” Andrew gets the message and shifts, allowing Steven to replace it with his own. To his credit, Steven barely hesitates in taking hold of both of them in a loose fist, pressing up closer to Andrew as he strokes with a languid pace. While he may be new to things in specific areas, this certainly isn’t one of them because Steven has Andrew resting his forehead against his shoulder before long, fucking into his fist in quiet moans. Spurred on by his reactions, Steven squeezes lightly and  _holy fuck._

“You’re going to make me come if you keep doing that.” Andrew manages to rasp out, watching his companion do a full body shudder at his admission. “Lie back. There’s something I want to try.” To which has Steven complying with curiosity as motivation, gesturing to all of himself with a cheekiness that makes him laugh. God, how he loves this man.

Andrew doesn’t stop to second-guess himself again, choosing to rest his hands against Steven’s thighs, copping an appreciative feel. He’s careful to keep his eyes on Steven when he dips his head down and presses a kiss to the inside of his leg, brushing a trail of butterfly kisses down sensitive skin and drawing satisfaction from the way Steven’s breath hitched. He’s fairly confident that he could feel the deliberate brush of Andrew’s stubble in great clarity, judging by the way he’s twitching in a bid to fight the natural instinct to close his legs. Andrew honestly wouldn’t have minded if he did. But that’s probably to be explored for another time. 

For now, he's content to bestow attention to Steven's dick again, gliding his fingers up and down his shaft in a fluid motion as he dips down even lower and "- _oh_!"  

Steven's raising his head to look and Andrew answers by lapping the flat of his tongue against his hole again. When he isn't met with protest of any sort, Andrew continues, dragging the tip of his tongue in gentle swirls, eliciting a choked whimper. A curse tumbles out of Steven’s mouth when Andrew spreads him open and proceeds to jerk him off in earnest as he experimentally eases a finger past the tight ring of muscles. He’s careful to go slow, sliding his finger into snug heat so that Steven could grow accustomed to the intrusive sensation. Andrew takes his time experimentally sliding his fingers in and out at a steady pace, gradually introducing a second one when his companion began rocking his hips to meet each slide in. 

He keeps up a steady pace and slides in a third, until the other is squirming under his ministrations, hips bucking each time Andrew’s fingers brushed against his prostate. He actually gets a good to honest whimper when he eases his fingers out eventually and Andrew has to fight not to get ahead of himself and just fuck Steven’s brains out right then and there.  _Not_   _yet_. 

Not one to leave Steven hanging, Andrew replaces his fingers with his tongue, tracing the rim, delving in to lavish kisses, light bites and suckles. He’s gentle when he pushes the tip of his tongue in and earns himself another breathy groan. Fingers dug into his hair, yanking sharply enough to mix pin pricks of pain with pleasure and Andrew groans. Steven’s practically dissolving into breathy whines and impatient mess, urging him on. His carefully styled hair is mussed up beyond belief, pupils blown wide as he arched his back and tugged at Andrew, chasing more more more. 

Steven feels like home when Andrew finally _finally_  heeds his encouragement and slides his dick inside. Unbelievably warm. Accommodating. And it’s all Andrew could do to hang on and breathe for a moment when Steven manages to take him all the way up to the hilt. A snap of his hips has Steven keening, rocking back against his thrusts with his back bent like a bow, broken renditions of his name adorning his lips like a litany of praises. 

Andrew feels the sting of nails against his back when Steven scrabbles for purchase, a hoarse yell escaping when he manages to brush up against his prostate yet again. He unravels in the most delicious of ways, rutting back against Andrew, unrestrained and unabashed with seeking out what he wants. He could very well take all that Andrew could give and then some. Andrew  _wants_  to give him everything he could ever ask for. 

A singular bite against his neck sends Steven over the edge and he comes with his head thrown back, panting, still clutching onto Andrew as if he couldn’t bear to let him go. That coupled with the way he tightens around him effectively diminishes all remnants of self control Andrew has and he’s quick to follow soon after. 

They’re both breathing raggedly by the time they each return from their respective highs, sticky but sated, with Andrew haphazardly resting on the edge of the table until he rights himself with his forearm again. Steven opens his eyes when he presses a hand to his cheek, stroking fondly with a thumb and the words come easy to him when he doesn’t take the time to read into it. 

“I love you.”

He takes the time to register the momentary surprise that overtakes his companion’s blissed out expression and learns to breath again when Steven smiles.   
  
“Love you too.”  
  
Steven extends both arms towards him, curling and relaxing his fingers in a grabbing motion. “Carry me to the bathroom?”  
  
“Now you’re pushing it.”  
  
“What? No, come on!” 

He makes a valiant attempt to do so anyways. 

**Author's Note:**

> Adam is the international treasure we all deserve. Also: This is a 4 chapter story- actual explicit dickery happens in chapter 3 and 4. I’ve been working on this for way too long and I’m dying. 
> 
> You can let me know what you think of it in the comments or over here at my [blog](https://spoopybruh.tumblr.com/)


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